


His Hair Was Perfect

by FleetSparrow



Series: Boy Hostage [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Daily lives of superheroes, Gen, Humor, I just like non-evil Joker ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being the Boy Hostage can get a little, well, boring, especially when your help hasn't arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Hair Was Perfect

Dick huffed in frustration and thunked his head back against the chair.  His chair was tied to a rocket that replaced the telescope in the Gotham University Observatory, an old gag, but apparently one that was still funny enough to Joker.  Dick had been in this situation before, almost to the point of boredom, but this time Joker had tied his arms down in such a way the small blade he had wouldn’t reach.

So, yeah, the escape was going swell.

Dick was just starting to try again-- as if he’d definitely accomplish it now after the last ten failed attempts-- when Joker returned from outside.  He sighed dramatically and leaned on the rocket to talk to Dick.

“So, he’s not here yet.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that.”

“Where did you say Batman was again?”

“League mission,” Dick said, shrugging.  “He said he’d be back today, but I guess it’s running longer.  I’d call and ask him, but you kinda smashed my communicator.”

“Yeah, I do that.”  Joker looked over at the pile of broken electronic scattered across the floor.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time, you know.  Didn’t want him to arrive too early and spoil it.”

“No, I get that.  Makes sense.  Still.”

“Yeah.”  Joker turned around and leaned back against the rocket, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Dick was a little surprised at how close Joker was staying to him, but, well, it had been over an hour and there was a sort of time limit to these things.  If Dick could’ve got free before now, he would have, Batman or no Batman.

“It’s just not _fun_ without an audience,” Joker said, his usual smile replaced by an equally exaggerated pout.  “I can’t waste a perfectly good pyrotechnic on a man who might not even see it.”

“As part of the pyrotechnic, I would be deeply upset,” Dick said.  “Speaking of, um, what color’s this gonna be?  Usual green and purple?”

“Oh, no, that’s just the outside,” Joker said, turning around and knocking on the oversized rocket.  “Just for branding purposes, you know.  Can’t have anyone else claiming my rocket for themselves.  No, this baby’ll go off in your colors.  I thought I should send you off in a blaze of glory.  I’ve named it the Firebird.”

“Because my goose will be cooked when it goes off, nice.  I’m kinda touched,” Dick said.  “That’s almost sweet in a murderous way.”

“Well, we have had a lot of good years together, haven’t we, Boy Wonder?”

Joker ruffled Dick’s hair, making Dick duck his head.  “Hey, I just got it looking good!”

Joker let out a small chuckle and turned around again, looking down at his Goofy watch.  From the sigh he let out, Dick guessed even he was getting bored of waiting, too.

The two of them fell into an awkwardly companionable silence, broken only by Joker whistling a few strains of some novelty songs and Dick’s occasional attempts at getting loose again.  For the most part, Dick spent the time studying Joker.  It wasn’t often he got to see him this up close, not without also fighting for his life.  He had to admit, Joker kept himself looking sharp.  Even after their fight from earlier in the evening, his suit looked crisp and tidy.  There wasn’t a button undone or a hair out of place.

“How do you get it like that?” Dick asked.  “Your hair?  I keep thinking I want to style mine differently, but I never know how.”

“Oh, it’s not that hard.  It just takes a little practice.”  He reached out to touch Dick’s hair.  “May I?”

Dick nodded.  Joker began running his fingers through his hair, making soft hums of appraisal as he looked it over.

“It’s very thick, very healthy.”

“I make sure to eat balanced meals every day,” Dick said.

“Oh, I can tell, I can tell.”  Joker stood back, stretching his arms out behind him.  “Well, I think you’ll be able to manage a pompadour, but it might take a _little_ extra work.”

“I put in the time anyway, so it probably couldn’t be too much more, right?”

“I don’t think so.  The first thing you need to remember is always carry a comb and a little bottle of mousse, just in case,” Joker said, pulling the items out of his inside coat pocket.  “It’s so embarrassing getting dragged back to Arkham with your hair a mess.”

“Aw, I can imagine.”

“Now, this is what I use, and it’s my own _secret_  recipe,” Joker said, a note of pride in his voice.  He held up a bottle that read, _Le pitremousse_.  “But, I am willing to provide it at a reasonable price if you are serious about your new ‘do.”

Dick nodded, looking over the bottle interestedly, when his keen sense of smell picked up an odd scent.  “Is that…?  It smells like Clayface.”

Joker pulled the bottle away.  “Weeeeell, I _may_  have stolen just a little of the product that made our dear Matt into the monster-man he is today, but such is the price of beauty!”

“And you haven’t had any weird side effects?”

Joker stared at him dryly.

“Right.  Vat of acid.  You probably don’t get side effects from anything, huh?”

“Nope!”

“Well, at least there’s a little bit of an upside.”

“It has its moments.”

The silence fell a bit more awkwardly this time.  After a few moments, Joker looked at his watch and clapped his hands.  “You know what?  Let’s see what we can do with what you’ve got.”

*******

It was with Clark’s help that Bruce had tracked down Dick.  He’d been away with the League for too long, and when Alfred had called him to say that Robin’s comm had stopped transmitting almost two hours before, he panicked.  Only one man could find Dick from afar and get them there in time.

They landed on the dome of the observatory and Bruce immediately slid down to look for a way inside.  Clark had said that Dick’s heartbeat sounded fine, but Bruce knew that could change any moment.  Joker was nothing if not capricious and any sudden entrance might startle him into harming Dick.

The two of them slipped inside, already on high alert.  Joker was up by the giant rocket-telescope, doing something to Dick’s head, and muttering softly to himself.

Batarang at the ready, Batman stepped forward.  “Joker!”

“Just a second, Batman!  You keep us waiting for two hours, you can wait another two minutes.”  Joker clicked his tongue and shook his head, but didn’t stop his work.

To even his own surprise, Bruce hesitated.  “What?”

With a final flourish, Joker turned around, holding his hands out towards Robin as if presenting him.  “Ta-da!!  What do you think?  Is it ‘him’?”

Dick looked at Bruce, his bangs pulled up high in his new pompadour.  “Hi, Batman.  Hi, Superman.  I knew you’d get here eventually.”

As if Dick’s words had broken them from their trance, the two heroes leapt forward at once, barely giving Joker the time to reach the base of the rocket.

With Dick freed and Joker handcuffed, Bruce took a moment to look over Dick’s new hairstyle.

“It’s too obvious.”

“Well, yeah, for everyday wear.  But I was thinking maybe--”

“Your old style was fine.”  Bruce sniffed the air, frowning slightly.  “Is that Clayface?”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck.  “Oh, yeah, apparently the mousse Joker uses is based on Renuyu.  We should probably get me home and wash this out fast.”

“A good idea, Robin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I wrote last night to cheer myself up and work through a migraine (it helped!), and also because I really like a less maliciously murderous Joker and more of a "playfully oblivious to your injury" type one.
> 
> ...And also because I have Werewolf of London stuck in my head, don't judge me.


End file.
